


these are the things we cannot have

by coppertears



Series: these days [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Idiots, M/M, Pining, lots of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 00:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11263884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coppertears/pseuds/coppertears
Summary: it's not like he's tried to keep it a secret.





	these are the things we cannot have

"why don't we have a beach trip next weekend?"

he keeps his back turned to that voice, and continues to stir milk and sugar into his coffee. in the early days of college, he'd preferred it black, bitter on the tongue, heavy on the burst of wakefulness. once he'd read that caffeine worked by inhibiting sleep, without pulsing energy into his veins in return. but that isn't why he drinks his coffee this way now, almost golden-brown and cloyingly sweet in the back of his throat in the red-eyed morning.

"i can't. i'll be gone by friday."

there is a pause. then the shuffling of feet, and the thunk of another mug beside his, this one white with multi-colored circles on it, a shallow chip on the rim. it's been that way for a while, even before they'd begun rooming together, laid upside-down in the dishwasher of the shared kitchen in the college dormitory. it had been owner-less then, an unknown in a sea of unknowns; and now, it's somehow more dear to him than he's ever allowed himself to contemplate. he's not sure how it might feel to not see it for a while.

"gone on friday?" 

it's not like he's tried to keep it a secret--not to other people. he'd rolled in new luggage two weeks ago. on the communal calendar, he'd written in his schedule for an appointment with his travel agent. little clues here and there, like some of his belongings in their shared spaces now tucked away, a number of his clothes sold off. he's not a coward. yes, he's running away, but his silence on the matter isn't all about that. at least, not only that.

if he's honest, it's because he doesn't want to feel the tug. does not want to have that conversation where he might abandon everything he's planned to stay, at a word, at an expression. he's been counting on being so close to the departure date that no matter what happens anyway, he'll be caught up in the pressure of his preparations to think about backing out. 

he can take the anger. he has to. 

beside him, baekhyun taps a tapered finger against the handle of his mug.

"yeah." chanyeol sets aside his stirrer and takes a sip of his coffee. it's shy of too hot, but maybe a scalded mouth can stymie the questions, the yelling. he doesn't want this to be the last memory, not for a while. "the master's program in germany that i mentioned to you before? they got back to me, said i'd passed and a professor was willing to take me in." he doesn't look at his--well, his roommate. his friend, definitely. but not...not just _his_.

eight years, and he still hasn't quite let go of the longing. but that's what his departure is all about, anyway.

"chanyeol." the voice is flat.

he's heard it this way, what, a hundred times. more than. whiplash, in the middle of study sessions with the rest of their college friends, when sehun was whining all over the place and jongdae parroted him just because it was in his blood to mock the people he loved, and baekhyun would crack under a mixture of frustration, fear, and nervousness. that day in the club when he found one of his summertime flings flirting with a bartender. in the lab, sometimes, when he'd been up all night, and chanyeol had accidentally misplaced the papers where he'd tabled the results for his experiments, because he'd been caught up in setting up for his own experiment. 

he tells himself he won't miss this, as well. there's already so much that he will; he can't afford to add this to the list. there must be a little piece of himself left that's not so entangled in baekhyun's idiosyncrasies, just a sliver he can somehow expand until it no longer feels like burning underneath his skin.

"how long?"

chanyeol takes another sip of his coffee. tries to not remember how he'd started making it this way--when baekhyun would crash in his room so often, too lazy to get out of bed, and would wheedle chanyeol into making his coffee, all milky, sweet to the core, because baekhyun had the palate of a child at times. too many times he'd been conditioned to make that cup, until he'd misplace his own strong brew and drink baekhyun's instead, until he got so used to the taste, and to baekhyun fixing the coffee that way even though he'd known how chanyeol liked to take his, and now it's just another part of his life that has baekhyun's fingerprints all over it.

"what do you mean, how long?"

this time he lifts his head. baekhyun gazes back at him, and it's almost as though he can already read the question he's about to ask. _how long have you known this? how long have you been planning to leave? how long have i been pretending that you won't?_

"how long will you be gone?" he asks, now, and chanyeol acts as though he doesn't see the faint tremors over baekhyun's hand as he grips the handle of his mug too tight. 

_three more days,_ he reminds himself. _and then i'll be gone._

"two years."

baekhyun hates being left behind. it's one of the first things he's ever told chanyeol about, when they were still learning each other. uncertainty upsets him, distance even more so, and on drunken nights he likes to lay his head on chanyeol's shoulder and ask him to stay. 

there's just not been any promise of that sort between them. though they've been together constantly, a fixture at each other's side, chanyeol has only ever carded his fingers through baekhyun's hair whenever he pleads that way, and baekhyun never remembers what he drunk-babbles in the morning. it's a cop-out, he knows. if it had been any earlier, if baekhyun had asked, he would have abandoned his plans. but he can't keep living this half-life. 

baekhyun's mouth tightens into an unhappy line, jaw hard-set. "will you even come back for breaks?"

chanyeol shakes his head. 

he could. it had been included in the brochure, the holidays and transportation subsidies. what he needs, though, is a clean break, a kind of purification. take the eight years of feelings built up in his chest, and wind them back down to a point when he can see the lovers, male or female, passing into baekhyun's bedroom, and not have that pain; or listen to baekhyun's break-up stories without wanting to carry him away; or even just sit in a room with baekhyun, not really even doing anything, the ache finally absent from his chest all the way to the tips of his toes. god, it's just--

it's just that he's wanted baekhyun for so long. has loved him all that time. and while this is also about him pursuing the things he's wished for in life, his dream program and the work he's slaved over for years coming to fruition, he's aware that he's...running away. that after these eight years, he's come to terms with the fact that baekhyun will not look his way, even though by now he's dropped so many hints, been so obvious about his affections. that one time they'd been by the bar, tipsy with jongdae's chosen birthday shots, and he'd leaned in close to kiss him because he couldn't last through a moment without desiring to do so, and baekhyun had pulled away. in summer, by the beach, when he'd felt them just on that knife point of maybe, just maybe, coming down to the road of something more. and if he has the time, he can call up more moments, and be heartbroken by each one of them. three months ago, when the letter came, he'd decided then: that if he continued like this, stuck and wanting what he cannot have, he will be hollowed out. so he'd leave. salvage himself as much as he can. 

it comes down to eight years being too long for him to want the same thing and not call it his, too long to have nothing happening when it's the one thing that should be happening. 

the sound of a crash jars him from his thoughts, and he jerks his head down to follow the coffee stains on baekhyun's pants, the shards of the mug laid out at his feet. for a second, he has to hold back the wild beast of a laugh in his throat. because isn't this just the perfect symbol for this moment?

"you asshole," baekhyun bites out, tone harsh enough to make chanyeol flinch, and then he turns and leaves the kitchen. chanyeol watches his back until it disappears from view.

and then he picks up the shards when the door to their apartment slams closed.

 

\---

 

he doesn't remember how long he'd been crying that day. baekhyun had found him shrouded in his comforter in front of the tv playing reruns of _star wars_ , mug of hot chocolate in his hands. earlier, chanyeol had broken up with his boyfriend. he'd expected it, had been waiting for the hammer to fall, and anyway he'd just not been able to smother the wild growth in his heart that was his best friend's place to feel anything deeper than surface-level affection and lust for seokjin. he'd been nice, sweet, handsome. "perfect," baekhyun had once laughingly said to him, when they'd been sitting at the back of the lecture hall while seokjin, being the teacher's assistant, had handed out the lecture notes. "you should date him."

and he had. partly because he'd found him attractive, but mostly, he suspected, because baekhyun had said so, and somehow his logic had worked out that someone baekhyun had recommended would help him move on from his unrequited crush. back then he'd turned a blind eye to how deep his feelings truly ran.

but a year on, and so very little had changed, and seokjin had taken him to their favorite cafe. had bought him an americano, and then broken up. "i'm not really the one you want, am i?" because, of course, he'd known. like everyone other than baekhyun knew.

the crying, he thought, was because seokjin was perfect. he'd drop by on the worst days and on the best, cheer chanyeol up with little gifts or caring notes, and chanyeol had tried to reciprocate. he was perfect, but he wasn't baekhyun, and in the end, chanyeol couldn't love him. it hurt to acknowledge it. it hurt even more, knowing it would always be this way.

so baekhyun had found him, like that, and he hadn't asked any questions. instead he'd gathered more blankets and joined chanyeol, and later when he'd gotten around to telling him about the break-up (but not the reason for it, because he was just as afraid then), there'd been a gleam in his eyes that chanyeol hadn't been able to decipher. "you deserve all the love in the world, chanyeol."

he hadn't wanted, or needed, all the love in the world. he'd just wanted baekhyun's. but he couldn't say that, and so he'd nodded and gone to the kitchen to make more hot chocolate.

 

\---

 

baekhyun hasn't spoken, or approached him, in the days leading up to his departure. chanyeol's been counting on it, anyway. it tugs at his chest, this leaden weight of hurt and unrequited desires and the bits of jealousy and resentment combined, but perhaps it's better to not say goodbye to baekhyun. he's never been the most disciplined person, except for when it comes to hiding this particular secret, and he knows he can't count much on his impulse control if baekhyun so much as shows up to ask him to not leave.

on his last night, he holds a farewell dinner, slipping an invitation scrawled on a memo pad on the new mug that baekhyun has been using. later, he finds it crumpled in the trash bin. 

everyone asks where baekhyun is at the dinner. he shrugs, deflecting the inquiries with a, "he's caught up in work, it's fine, we live together anyway."

twelve minutes to twelve, junmyeon draws him aside. "are you really giving up like this?"

chanyeol barely holds back from punching him in the face. junmyeon means well; he can't be an asshole to his friends. only to the one he loves, apparently, because he's fucked up like that. but a scarred heart should be enough of an excuse.

"this is my dream, junmyeon."

junmyeon's stare is piercing. "and what about him?"

god, he needs a drink. but he has an early flight tomorrow. 

"him?" he returns, instead, for lack of a better response.

"don't run away before you've even done anything, chanyeol," junmyeon says softly, and--

chanyeol knows. he _knows_. has overheard it, once, when he'd come up behind the booth where baekhyun and kyungsoo had been sitting side by side, and kyungsoo had told him he and chanyeol would look good together. baekhyun had laughed, had said, "not chanyeol. never him. _anyone but him_ ," with enough vehemence to make chanyeol stumble back quietly, insides churning with an emotion he refused to acknowledge, and flag the first taxi home. he couldn't avoid baekhyun--he was woven into his life. but he'd distanced himself, had gone on a flurry of dates, had found a boyfriend because--well--because he should be moving on, shouldn't he? should be bringing people home. should get used to the reality of having a different body by him. 

baekhyun had been so quiet in those days, eyes flickering with that same look chanyeol could never quite catch hold of, and on the fifth day of the fifth month that chanyeol had bussed off yet another hook-up, he'd wrapped his candle-like fingers around his wrist. the skin he'd touched had burned for days afterward. "stop this," he'd whispered. "you're not like this, chanyeol."

and he wasn't. he isn't, he knows. but sometimes he wishes that he is like that, able to move from person to person the way a butterfly flutters from flower to flower. on the brink of leaving, always, so that now he's not standing here, holding back the river of words, the tightly wound ball of his feelings, because junmyeon doesn't know what he's saying. chanyeol has tried _everything_ he knows without outright saying it, because he's also been trying what he already has with baekhyun, intact. but when the minutes run dry and he's staring up at the ceiling, the euphoria all but fading away, with an unfamiliar person in his bed--when he allows himself again to want, he remembers. baekhyun wants anyone but him. and he's helpless in the face of it; helpless to do much more than hold on to what little place he's carved out for himself.

"there's nothing to run towards," he manages to say, and steps away when junmyeon opens his mouth to say more. he's tired. eight years of pining does that to a person.

he gets home at eleven past one. for a few moments, he pads around the apartment, rifling through his memories for when they'd first moved in. when he'd still been hoping, and baekhyun and he had decided to room together, and he'd felt that flash of satisfaction in his chest at the way their belongings had mingled to the point that there were very few things that they possessed exclusively. from an outsider's perspective, he and baekhyun may even look something like a married couple. on the days when he's weak, he lets himself imagine that, and hates himself that much more for subjecting himself to that torture. now, he stands in the living room and closes his eyes.

"what time is your flight tomorrow?"

his eyes fly open. baekhyun is standing, uncertain, in the hallway leading to their (separate) bedrooms. there's a paper bag he's holding loosely by the handle, and his free hand is picking at his sleeve in the way that chanyeol recognizes indicated his nervousness. he takes a second to frame this image in his thoughts.

"nine in the morning," he says. "i leave at five."

 _four hours from now_.

"there's something--" baekhyun pauses, looks down. "i was going to give this to you, at the beach. if you'd gone. i didn't know you'd be leaving."

"i didn't tell you."

baekhyun nods. lifts his eyes back up. "because you're an asshole."

chanyeol tips his head in acknowledgment.

"it's just. i was going to. but it doesn't matter now, you're leaving, and you wouldn't leave if you--well, it doesn't matter," he says, and comes closer to slip the paper bag into chanyeol's hand, held slack by his side. he's looking everywhere but at chanyeol. "you don't have to, give anything back, or say anything. i just wanted. even just this." he licks his lips.

chanyeol loves him. it's a starburst in his chest; it's warm, but sour if it had a taste, or maybe bittersweet. maybe junmyeon is right and he hasn't done enough. but what choice does he have? he loves him so much, and baekhyun's eyes shine even in the dim light pouring through their living rooms, and if maybe he'd come home inebriated, he'd have leaned in for a taste of those lips. just to know; he's always hated not knowing.

baekhyun glances at the paper bag. "open it. if you'd like."

maybe it's the way baekhyun is looking at him, with that guardedness in the line of his shoulders whenever he's gifted chanyeol with something, craving chanyeol's delight in those gifts. that he's gotten it right. chanyeol memorizes it, then tucks it away, because he doesn't know when he will see it next. 

there's a bit of a scuffle as he tears away the tape holding the paper bag closed, and then he draws out an analog camera and rolls of film. there's a lump in his throat that he can barely swallow past. 

in his second year of knowing baekhyun, he'd told him about a long-forgotten dream. about how he'd loved film photography, had relished the feeling of being in the dark room, until he'd abandoned it to more practical pursuits. how he'd always been meaning to buy an analog camera, and have a go at it again, partially fueled by this bone-deep suspicion he had that baekhyun would be beautiful on film. that he'd have something tangible of him, something of baekhyun that he could call his own. he takes care to put the items back into the bag, and settles his weight back onto his other foot, searching for the words. something to reassure baekhyun, maybe.

"you know i can't give you anything in return," he says, and his voice sounds rough, foreign. 

"i know. but. if you really want to do something..." baekhyun bites his lip; chanyeol wants to smooth away the indentation it leaves behind. there's a vulnerability to him as he steps even closer, and chanyeol thrums with the closeness between them, the top of baekhyun's head barely skimming his chest so he has to look up. "if you really want to, then. would you be with me tonight?"

shock makes chanyeol take a step back. it makes him raise his voice, cracking, " _i can't_."

he can't. they can't. how can baekhyun be so cruel? even a kiss alone will destroy him. 

"i know you can't." there's something guttural to baekhyun's whisper, something painful. chanyeol doesn't linger on it. "i know you can't--but--just this." he swallows. "why would you want to? and i...i've said no before, but i've stepped away, but you're too--you're just. you're leaving." his voice is growing louder. "you didn't even say a word. everyone else knew but you didn't, and you're leaving, and i was just going to, at the beach trip next weekend that you're never going to--i was going to, at last. _just let me have this_."

chanyeol stares at him. "i can't," he repeats. he doesn't know what baekhyun's playing at. his pulse is thundering in his ears.

baekhyun hands are clenching into fists around the hem of his shirt. he's twisting the fabric. "i know. you don't want--i get it, i know. but two years, chanyeol, i--what if you--i'm not going to bear it. i haven't even been able to, for so long, i." the air feels heavy around them, like a coming storm, and chanyeol wants the four hours to be over, wants to be in the plane instead of here, his chest twisting in pain. "but if i can't have--if i can't, then at least this, just this." he looks up. " _please_."

chanyeol can barely speak. he can't even do anything else but breathe. years ago, he would have been selfish enough to take anything baekhyun would offer. but this far gone, he knows that casual intimacy would chip away at him, break him apart. he'd wear down that memory in germany, he knows. and then be crushed that much more.

"don't do this." quiet, a pause. and then baekhyun's fists tighten almost imperceptibly, and chanyeol can breathe in his anger, so attuned to baekhyun as he is. "don't do this." louder, now. "it's not like i didn't know, that you wouldn't--that you never would--and i'm not asking, not for anything back, and it's taken me so long to accept that, _don't you see?_ " he steps forward. "and i'd just gotten to that point, when i could _just say it_ , and not expect anything in return, _but you're leaving. you're leaving me._."

baekhyun's eyes are shining with tears. chanyeol doesn't understand, can barely keep himself from touching him, from comforting him.

"i'm coming back," he tries, unsure of how to fix this, because chanyeol doesn't like seeing baekhyun cry, and so he puts down the paper bag. his hands flutter; he doesn't know where to put them. doesn't know if baekhyun would allow the touch, despite his earlier offer.

" _in two years_ ," baekhyun snaps, shaking in--anger, frustration, maybe, and that something else that's always ever crossed his face when he looks at chanyeol. "two years, when anything can happen to you, when i can't even be by your side, i--" he looks away, then looks back at him. "you asshole, you are _fucking everything_ to me, and i didn't spend all these years pushing down everything to have you by my side, anything of you that i could have, _just for you to leave me anyway_."

chanyeol's blood freezes in his veins.

he must be hallucinating.

baekhyun's hand curls into his collar, and they're nose to nose, and he's yelling now. "i know! i've always fucking known! that you don't want me, that even if i did everything i could, you would never want me in that way, not even for a one night stand, _and that was why i was going to tell you._ " he's crying now, and the pain in chanyeol's chest intensifies. his hands come up to baekhyun's waist. "i was going to tell you, because i wanted it off my chest, i wanted to move on from it, _but you tell me you're going to germany and now you're leaving in four hours._ " he heaves out a breath. "you can't even give me this. i was going to be--not fine, with just this, but i wanted to, wanted to have you. _you bastard_."

it is as though baekhyun has taken leave of his senses. he must have. chanyeol tries to push down that part of him that wants to believe, that wants to--and he doesn't want to be angry, but he is, because _how dare baekhyun_? "don't," he snaps. "don't lie, you don't mean any of this--"

baekhyun lets out a laugh. it grates; it's wrong, sounds too sharp. "just what i want, of course, because why would my unrequited love want anything to do with me, of course--"

"you want to talk about unrequited love?" chanyeol grits out. "with me? try eight years. try watching you pull away whenever i try to kiss you, or flirt with you. try hearing you say you want _anyone but me_." he refuses to acknowledge the shock on baekhyun's face, cuts through the retort he can see forming on his lips. "try sitting here, watching you with a new lover, or listening to you talk about them. try hoping for even the smallest chance, for just a moment, for _fucking anything at all_ , and pushing through it anyway even if it fucking hurts so much i can't even breathe sometimes!"

"you had other lovers, too!" baekhyun yells back. "i had to watch them all, and keep watching, when they were all so perfect and _nothing like me_ , you'd even look away when people would put us together, you didn't mean any of those things, didn't you, you were _drunk_ , and i couldn't. i just couldn't." he sounds weary now. "told everyone it was never going to happen. because it wasn't. you didn't feel that way." 

silence falls between them.

"i've been wanting to kiss you, even when i wasn't drunk," chanyeol says, at last. baekhyun's head snaps up. "i've been in love with you, and believe me, i've been sober all this time. it was the one thing i wanted to happen. it was the only thing i ever felt." his voice feels thick in his throat. 

"then why--" baekhyun's voice hitches. chanyeol can't look away. in eight years, he's never learned how to. "then why didn't you say anything? i thought--" a tear slips out, and he brings up a hand to scrub it away. "you were everything," he whispers. "you _are_ everything to me. and you deserved someone better than i ever was."

chanyeol fumbles out a smile. "but that's the problem, isn't it," he says, as mildly as he can. softly. like this confession is nothing; like there's no bloodrush in his head. "there's no one better. the thing is, i've only ever wanted you."

he sees baekhyun swallow. he's trembling. this close, he can feel it, just as he feels his hands coming up to frame his face. for that one moment, peace floods in, and he lets it happen--lets bakehyun pull him close, winds his own arms around baekhyun's waist, so close now that they're almost kissing, and then they _are_.

it feels like coming home. the sweetest relief, and he allows himself to have this, and he wishes he'd known. that baekhyun had known. that they could have had more moments like this, instead of apparently running away, running scared. always thinking themselves undeserving of the other. and he melts into it, candle to flame, the sensations leaving him heady. in many ways, it's one of the chastest kisses he's ever had; but it's also the kiss he's wanted to have for so long, and somewhere deep inside him, he finally lets himself fall. lets himself touch. and baekhyun does the same--a maddening, dizzying give-and-take, and they don't make it to any of their bedrooms, making love instead right there on the living room sofa. 

when dawn slants in, chanyeol says, "i love you, you know." his arm is wrapped around baekhyun's waist. his free hand cards through baekhyun's hair. he has to leave in an hour, and the churn in his gut now takes on a different kind of meaning.

baekhyun is quiet. and then: "i love you, too. if that entire argument hadn't made that clear."

"i still have to leave."

baekhyun buries his neck further into the space where chanyeol's neck meets his shoulder. his hold on chanyeol tightens. " i know you do."

chanyeol feels empty and full. he wonders how that can be, but then he's never thought that all this time... "you could have done this earlier, you know," he says lightly. attempts humor. "i'd have dropped everything." that's not really a joke, though.

"you want this," baekhyun says, and lifts his head. he skims his lips against chanyeol's, and chanyeol deepens it, because he can, now. "i wouldn't want you to abandon that for me. just...what are we, now? how do we do this?"

"i'll come back," chanyeol decides, there and then. " every holiday, every break that's long enough. video call you every day until you get tired of my face."

"don't think i can."

he smiles. "it's going to be a nightmare. you're going to cry when i leave later, and i'll cry in the plane, and we'll both hate it every step of the way."

"and you'll rack up so many phone bills on international calls," baekhyun adds, "and we'll be skyping each other from our labs every moment we can, and i will curse every moment when i didn't take the chance so that we wouldn't have had so much lost time." he pauses. "but i can't really bring myself to regret this."

"i can't either," chanyeol agrees, and steals another kiss. this one takes longer. "so--boyfriend? partner?" he grins. "love of my life?"

baekhyun's eyes shine, this time, with happiness. "as long as we're together, you can call me anything you want."

he's so beautiful. chanyeol picks up the analog camera, pops in the roll of film, and takes a picture. baekhyun blinks. "yes," he says. "i feel the same way."

and he can already tell he will loathe every moment that he can't be with baekhyun now that they're together. now that he can have this. but he's waited eight years; he can survive two years on static-filled internet communications, on pictures he knows his friends will take of baekhyun and the ones baekhyun will take himself. and he also knows he will already be scheduling flights home on the plane ride to germany, counting down to every trip, enduring every single second of that two years until he can be with baekhyun then.

it's hard to not be optimistic, now knowing that baekhyun's felt the same way all along. maybe baekhyun will come to his graduation ceremony; maybe, after those eight years of fumbling and keeping secrets, he's allowed to have a ring, then, and a promise of forever.

for now, he gives himself just two more minutes of kissing baekhyun.


End file.
